Last night I met one of my besties for tapas and a long overdue catch up. (OK ..eff you judgemental lot. Yes I had paella and tapas because tapas isn’t a meal! It’s overpriced starters in way too little bowls.)

Afterwards we ended up at Grace Bar because they played 20 seconds of one song I vaguely remembered from the 90s and I had to go in for a dance. This soon turned into a verse and a chorus of every song released in the top 10 in the last 20 years with no bass and the same dance track bed but, it was too late, she had already been chatted up. What can I say? I have friends who’ve got it like that. Kanye shrugs

Her dude seemed cute but a quick sweep of the room and I settled myself in for a night of reckless dancing among the work Christmas party revelers. There was nothing for me to see. I lie. There was a dude at the bar but, I thought he was sitting. Turns out he was standing. He was nipple height at best and I’m not looking for a man baby. I went back to dancing my winter woes away.

The animation of the drunk couple next to me was lovely although he did snog her like he hadn’t eaten that day. Take a breath my brother. Save a snack for later. I moved away in case some of his saliva missed her mouth. I couldn’t take risks.

I figured I was safe as I kept a close eye on my friend and her new friend. But then a single woman by herself means that guys assume I was up for being chatted up too. I tried my best, ‘dude, I’m just here for the music resting bitch face’ but the resilience of alcohol was on their side meaning they just ignored me. Patriarchy is still alive. My friend’s new friend wanted to impress so bought us both double vodka cranberries. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t drink and when I do it has to be Grey Goose. It was rank. I think they were rationing out cranberry that night? I politely sipped and thought, this is how men can drug you. I was too nice to say no to a drink I didn’t even want for a penis that wasn’t even chatting me up? Sigh. I went back to dancing on my own. Sadly no Robyn was played that night.
Then the chancers came over. I know my job is to keep them distracted whilst the transaction between my girl and her new amour occurs but, I’ve forgotten what it was like to wing woman apparently. Why was this dude who had the odour of forced celibacy mixed with an inability to find a shower talking to me? Why was the other dude with the unusually long torso and munchkin legs trying to Strictly twirl me to a Little Mix song? A long shirt and low hanging trousers weren’t helping. Was his name Luigi or, was this 2001 all over again where he was claiming Italian but was really from Eastern Europe? What were Little Mix actually shouting out to their ex? So many questions but I just stared at him blankly.

I was finally released from my Wing woman duties as numbers were exchanged and I made my way home. As I ubered back to the safety of my sofa I realised that wing womaning isn’t easy oh! I need to rebuild those muscles for small talk and guys leaning in way too closely.

Is there a class I can take? Because I don’t want to fail my friends. And we all need a wing woman once in a while.

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Me again. Yes I know I said that if you gave me a banging body, a phone that works and a better job that I wouldn’t ask you for anything else but, Santa, you’re killing me with the online dating? What’s the deal with all the duds on there? Are you not filtering anymore? And I hate to grumble but, I’m still waiting on that banging body too please? (OK in the spirit of fairness this may or may not have something to do with all those sugary treats you keep putting in my way.)

This year started off badly with zero dates for the first 4 months. I was starting to wonder if you had forgotten about me completely. But then you threw me a bone and gave me a guy with financial problems. This seems to be an ongoing theme this year. Out of 32 dates it’s been a hot money mess. Is my name Barclays? Here’s to show you that for once I’m not exaggerating my precious .

Love you Santa

CBx

12 tedious first dates

Some of the dates were so boring I had to set my phone alarm up and pretend to rush off to another appointment. How some guys appear witty on line but when you meet them they have nothing to say is a testament to their friends writing their profiles. It may also say something about my penchant for a strong handsome face and not actually reading their profiles beyond their height and star sign?

11 timewasters wasting time

Lateness is the bane of dating. Anything from 20 minutes to no shows have been experienced. Why am I standing outside of a restaurant you may ask? Because I don’t want the wait staff to know that, once again, I potentially have been stood up (see 3). Until you turn up I’m not actually sure that you’re going to make it.

10 poverty piss takers

Apparently it’s ok now for the woman to pay for the whole bill. If he starts to outline his financial woes during the starter then cancel the other two courses and save yourself the bill. This has become such a pandemic that I carry a spare card in my bra.

9 never agains

Some guys are so heinous that I never want to see them again. Anything from the way they talk about women and their exes to little things they drop about how they view life in general can put one off. Like those that proudly said they voted Leave. I can’t. Let’s just walk away from this date.

8 beggers begging

When they ask you where you live and who you live with it used to be so that they could come around for sex. But now it’s because they want a place to stay for free. Don’t invite them back unless you want to see them mentally measuring up your wardrobe room for their old comics and decks. You are not a storage facility!

7 waste men trying it

The ones trying to get their leg over but have absolutely no intention of dating you. Yes him. They are a growing breed. Don’t fall for the lyrics.

6 liars lying

A helpful hint to all liars out there: Scroll up before you lie and see if you’ve already lied about your age / height / marital status / who you live with. Otherwise you just out yourself as a liar. Sigh. So sloppy.

5 married men!

These ones were all unhappily married though so apparently that’s meant to sway me into thinking a wedding ring not for me is ok. It’s not. [please note sarcasm American readers]

4 French dates

My best dates were all French Muslims. They turned up on time, they paid for the date (ok all of them were during Ramadan and didn’t involve any alcohol) and they were extremely polite. I’m just not looking for an interfaith relationship. I enjoy being a happy heathen.

3 Stood me ups

Those that just don’t turn up but then are really apologetic afterwards? I know you got a better offer. Just be honest. Sitting at Bills by myself for 45 – 87 minutes is not cool. That’s how long it takes to get through two starters.

2 couples matched

Whilst unsuccessfully dating myself I did manage to hook up other couples and two seem to be destined to go the distance. Don’t I get tinkerbell points for that or something? Come on!!

And a partner just for me!

Santa, I know you are still working on the last one and you’re just waiting for the madness of 2016 to be over. Can we work together please instead of you and your elves using me for your after work target practise?

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Summer brings out all sorts of Street Wastement Opportunists so be on your guard my precious and hope they are just chatters and not grabbers.

I didn’t bask in the sun today. Instead I waited until late then lazily walked up the bookstore hoping to get something lovely to read. On my way up I chat to a friend who is in a new relationship and the sun is shining and all is right with the universe. I love new love.

Waterstone’s Piccadilly is still insisting on mixing the black romance with the white romance so I have to trawl through every fucking shelf of British chick lit and regency and highland fling romance to find any black romances. Turns out that I’ve already read all 10 that they had. This however takes about an hour of random distractions and avoiding bookshop lurkers. There was one today. It wasn’t looking like a great book day for me so I left.

Despondent, I’m walking back from Waterstone’s along Piccadilly and I’m almost at Hyde Park Corner listening to my music when I see a dude crossing the intersection towards me. Dude mouths something to me. I take out a headphone and he says that he’s sorry to bother me whilst I’m power walking and then asks me if I know where Green Park Station is and points to his phone like he’s lost. I tell him it’s 5 minutes down the road and he says thank you then adds, you look beautiful by the way. Dude is clearly not lost and probably is from London. Sigh

I wanted to break into an Olivia Pope style monologue but that’s too much like hard work. I wanted to tell him that men like him who think it’s a compliment to stop women in the street and compliment them whilst trying to get a leg over is not cute. He’s not cute. He’s annoying. His microaggression is trying to ruin my day!

Besides I know I don’t look beautiful. I’m in a crappy dress, old flip flops and a scarf half covering the mess that I call hair. I look a hot mess but clearly he’s just trying it. What’s your name he asks me because the dead stare I gave him clearly wasn’t enough. Popping the headphone back in and growling I just stomped off.

What a joker. Clearly I’m not powerwalking in flip flops!! Hope your summer loving is going a bit better